ALL ON AN APRIL MORNING.
The teacher was wise and learned, I wis, All nonsense she held in scorning, But you never can tell what the primmest miss Will do of a bright spring morning.
What this one did was to spread a snare For feet of a youth unheeding, As March, with a meek and lamb-like air, To its very last hour was speeding.
Oh, he was the dullard of his class, For how can a youth get learning With his eyes aye fixed on a pretty lass And his heart aye filled with yearning?
"Who finds 'mong the rushes which fringe a pool," She told him, "the first wind blossom, May wish what he will"—poor April fool, With but one wish in his bosom.
Her gray eyes danced—on a wild-goose chase He'd sally forth on the morrow, And, later, she'd laugh in his sombre face, And jest at his words of sorrow.
But penitence and a troubled mind Were fruits of the night's reflection; After all, he was simple, and strong, and kind— 'Twas wrong to flout his affection.
They met on the hill as she walked to school; He said, unheeding her blushes, "Here's the early flower your April fool Found growing among the rushes.